


Love in a Time of Dragons

by flowersheep



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Bears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-01 21:50:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10930725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersheep/pseuds/flowersheep
Summary: Arthur did not ask to be stuck in the middle of the mountains with Merlin or to have his entire view of the world turned on its head, but maybe that was exactly what he needed.





	Love in a Time of Dragons

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be honest, I had so much planned for this fic. Something big and epic that involved lots of snark, a lot more dragons, and an epic battle. But then life happened and after clinging to my bigger, more epic fic for weeks I finally had to admit to myself that it wasn't gonna happen.
> 
> Nevertheless, I refuse to let life win and so here I am to present you with proof that bears are the ultimate weapon against writer's block.
> 
> A million, billion, _trillion_ thanks to my artist SideStepping, both for your gorgeous art and your endless patience with me, as well as for your work as a mod for this fest! [everyone should go check out the amazing art!!!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10941237)
> 
> thanks also to the other mod, Narlth, for your work hosting Merlin Reverse!

Arthur stumbled when Merlin came to an abrupt stop.

“Merlin, what are you doing?” he demanded, tossing his companion an irritated glare. Merlin ignored him, staring intensely at the entrance of the cave they were approaching, brow furrowed in concentration. Which Arthur did not find at all cute, nope, not one bit. And if he did, it was obviously because those weird berries Merlin had insisted weren’t poisonous had some sort of hallucinogenic properties that were affecting his perception.

“We shouldn’t go in there,” Merlin said slowly. He stared at the cave for a moment longer before nodding to himself. “Yeah, no, we definitely shouldn’t go in there.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “And why is that, hm? Don’t tell me you’re afraid of the dark, Merlin.”

Merlin gave him an unimpressed look. “No, Prince Prat, I’m not afraid of the dark.”

“Then I don’t see what the problem is.” Arthur carefully ducked out from under Merlin’s arm, making sure he had his balance before striding confidently towards the cave.

“The problem,” Merlin called after him, “is that caves are rarely uninhabited.”

“So, what, you’re afraid of a few bats?” Arthur taunted. “Honestly, Merlin get a grip.”

“Bats aren’t the only animals that live in caves.”

“Rats, then. Or maybe a few foxes. Big deal.”

“Or, I don’t know, a pack of wolves? A wild dragon?”

“Well, are there wolves or wild dragons in this cave?”

“No, but-“

“Then stop nagging. And…” Arthur’s eyes scanned the forest floor until he found a suitable stick. “Light me a torch, would you?” Merlin glared, but his eyes flashed gold and a fire sprang to life on the end of the stick. Holding the torch in his left hand and drawing his sword with his right, Arthur crossed the threshold of the cave. He paused to let his eyes adjust to the dim lighting, then scanned the cave for any sign of habitation. When nothing jumped out at him and no wolves or dragons attacked, he started to relax. Then a low, menacing growl reached his ears. Arthur froze. From the deep dark of the cave lumbered a great big mass of brown fur and sharp teeth. Arthur’s eyes went wide, the torch fell from his hand, and he swore before turning and sprinting out of the cave. Behind him the bear roared.

Arthur shot out of the cave into the dying light of day. He didn’t turn back until he’d reached the edge of the clearing and remembered that he’d forgotten Merlin and his injured leg. That would definitely slow down their escape. Well, it had been a long time since Arthur had had to fight a bear and he’d never fought one on his own, but he was smart, strong, and agile. He could handle this. If only Merlin would stop acting like a complete idiot and get out of the way.

“Merlin!” Arthur yelled. “What are you doing, you idiot! Move!”

Merlin ignored him. Making a noise of frustration, Arthur prepared to dash into the clearing and grab Merlin when the bear came rampaging out of the cave. Damn it, Merlin had not survived their crash landing a few days ago just to end up mauled by a bear. Arthur would not allow it.

“Merlin get out of there!”

But Merlin continued to ignore him. He had the bow he’d salvaged from their crash in one hand and one of the arrows he’d made yesterday in the other. It wouldn’t be anywhere near enough to take down 800 pounds of infuriated bear, even with Merlin having proved himself to be a skilled archer. It would take at least a few well aimed arrows, probably more like the whole quiver, and with his injured leg Merlin didn’t exactly have maneuverability. And, just to make the whole thing even worse, Merlin still had the dragon egg that had landed them in this whole mess tucked away in his bag. With the way their luck was going it would end up smashed by the bear and then they’d really be screwed.

“Just stay back, Arthur,” Merlin ordered. “I’m dealing with it.” The bear stood up on its hind legs, regarded Merlin curiously for a moment before deciding it didn’t care for him anymore than Arthur, and let out a monstrous roar. Merlin nocked his arrow and took aim.

“Merlin, damn it, this is no time to be a hero!”

“Can you please just shut up for a moment so I can concentrate?”

Arthur couldn’t believe he was actually considering throwing himself in front of Merlin. He should stay right where he was. Or better yet, he should make a run for it while the bear was distracted. That way at least one of them wouldn’t end up mauled by an angry bear. Of course, that also meant that Arthur would have to be the one to go to the Wardens and tell Merlin’s father all about his son’s gruesome, yet heroic death. Maybe there _was_ something to this whole ‘both of them getting mauled by a bear’ idea. Arthur shook his head. No, no one was getting mauled by a bear. Damn it, if only they had a dragon with them. But Llamrei was god only knows where and Merlin’s dragon… Merlin’s dragon was gone.

 _Think, Arthur, think!_ There had to be something he could do to save Merlin from his own stupidity!

In the clearing Merlin stood firm. Arthur couldn’t see his face, but his stance was confident and his expression was probably determined. He didn’t look the slightest bit afraid and Arthur had to admit that Merlin’s courage in the face of his imminent, gruesome, probably very painful death was admirable. Stupid, but admirable. Well, it was now or never. Arthur had already decided he wasn’t going to let Merlin die and since his options were rather limited here that meant throwing himself in the bear’s path and hoping his sword would be enough to keep them both alive.

Just as Arthur tightened his grip on his sword and set foot in the clearing, Merlin loosed his arrow. A jolt of fear lurched through Arthur. The arrow had been well aimed, but it was just one arrow. Now the bear was just going to be even angrier and- and…

Arthur stared as the bear dropped to the ground and didn’t move. He closed his eyes tight for a moment and opened them again, but the scene didn’t change. Well that had certainly been… unexpected. Arthur went to stand beside Merlin.

“As I was saying before you so rudely interrupted,” Merlin began, “there aren’t any wolves or dragons or even bats in that cave, but there is a bear.” He glanced at the dead bear. “Well, _was_ a bear. So, are you going to dress it and skin it or do I have to do all the work?” Arthur was still working on forming words. Merlin’s arrows were nothing special. Some of them had the salvaged metal tips of his original arrows, but most of them were just sticks and stones. Either way, they couldn’t possible be that effective against an angry, 800 pound bear.

“But… how?” Arthur gestured at the dead bear. “With one arrow?” Instead of answering, Merlin pulled out another arrow and held it up for Arthur’s inspection. There were runes carved into the shaft. “Enchanted arrows,” Arthur realized. No wonder just one had been so effective.

“Possibly the best thing my father has ever taught me,” Merlin said. “Increases their effectiveness, meaning I don’t waste as many arrows and…” Merlin’s expression turned soft and sad as he looked at the bear again. “It also means a quick, relatively painless death when hunting, especially large game.”

“Why would that matter?” Arthur asked. At Merlin’s startled expression he realized exactly what he’d just said and backtracked. “Not that I want animals to suffer, but, well. We hunt to survive. It’s just the natural order of things.”

“Not everyone just hunts for survival, let’s not lie to each other about that at least. Plenty of people, especially nobility, hunt for fun.” Merlin shook his head. “Look, it’s fine, I know you’re not cruel, Arthur. Arrogant and annoying, yes. But cruel? No, I’ve never believed that.”

Arthur blinked. “Uh, thanks? I think.” At least part of that had been a compliment. Of sorts.

“I was raised differently than you,” Merlin continued. “Magic can give you a whole different perspective on a lot of things. And my magic is- well- it’s always been… different.”

“Different how?” Morgana had said something similar once, when Arthur had been complaining about how Merlin had an unfair advantage with all his stupid little magic tricks. With a disdainful roll of her eyes, she’d admonished Arthur for his unkind view of magic and then said something about how you couldn't compare Merlin to some hokey little street magician. He was different.

Merlin sighed, looking up at the sky. “It’ll be dark soon. We should set up camp first, then we can talk. And hey, we can even use this cave, since the bear obviously isn’t using it anymore.” Arthur snorted. “Speaking of the bear, you should go ahead and get started on it. I’ll get some firewood.” Merlin took one step in the direction of the trees before his leg nearly went out from under him. Arthur sprang forward to catch him.

“I’ve got a better idea,” Arthur said. “You stay here and rest while I go collect some firewood and deal with the bear.” Merlin looked like he dearly wanted to protest and Arthur didn’t blame him. He’d never liked sitting still and resting while injured or sick either. It made him feel useless, like he was slacking off, and it grated on him. But in the end, Merlin nodded and let Arthur help him over to the cave and settle him on a patch of ground. It occurred to Arthur as he headed into the woods that Merlin might just try to get up and do something anyway once he was alone, but he decided there was nothing he could do about it. At least he knew Merlin wouldn’t be able to get far with that leg so tracking him down if he did try to hobble off somewhere would be easy.

Night had fallen by the time Arthur had finished setting up camp. Fresh meat from the bear cooked over the fire and the pelt sat off to the side. Sighing tiredly, Arthur sat across the fire from Merlin.

“So,” Arthur began, “your magic. In what way is it different?”

Merlin looked up from where he’d been examining the dragon egg. “Right. That.” He frowned for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “Well, everyone knows magic has to be studied, right? Even those who show natural talent for it from a young age, like my friend Freya or my father. Even with that natural talent they still had to study magic extensively in order to gain the mastery of it they have today. Me, on the other hand- Well, I still studied it, of course, and continue to do so, but…”

“But?”

“Well, I never really needed to. Not to use it. When I was a child I used to just… I don’t know, wish my toys alive? And it would happen. My father carved all these little wooden animals for me and I would make them come alive and run across the floor or fly through the air. According to my parents I could make objects move before I could even walk. When my father started formally teaching me- which was long before most kids would be allowed to study magic- I mastered spells like they were nothing. Well.” A smile flashed across Merlin’s face. “Most spells. Healing magic has always been an exception because it’s more complicated and requires extensive knowledge of the physician’s art in order to be applied properly. But elemental magic comes as easy to me as breathing. Always has.”

Arthur nodded, turning this information over in his mind. Admittedly, it didn’t make much sense to him. Magic wasn’t outlawed in Camelot, but everyone knew the king had little taste for it. Any questions Arthur had asked about it were always brushed off and eventually he’d just given up asking at all. Even Morgana being formally trained in magic hadn’t been much help to him. She’d done all her training on the Isle of the Blessed and, understandably, didn’t like discussing any of it in Camelot. Arthur was still surprised she’d come back at all.

“So what does this have to do with the bear?” Arthur asked.

Merlin blinked. “Oh, right, the bear. All magic is connected to the earth and the earth to it. The strength of the connection is related to the strength of someone’s magic. Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“Do you really want me to try and give you the full explanation?”

Arthur shook his head. “No, I think I’ll pass.”

“Like I said, my magic is different. Stronger, basically. I mean it’s more complicated than that, but again, I don’t think you want the full explanation.”

“No, I don’t. So, your strong magic means you have a strong connection to the earth.”

“Yes. And it made learning to hunt an absolutely terrible experience for me. I understand that it’s a part of survival and my people have long standing traditions of respect for the earth and the creatures that live alongside us, which helped, but…” Merlin frowned. “When I was little I used to make friends with the creatures in the forest surrounding my home. My mother would find me playing with rabbits and squirrels and foxes and birds. They were my playmates more so than other children. So, understandably, the first time I was told I had to kill one of them it did not go well. I remember throwing a huge fit and refusing to speak to my parents for an entire day.”

“Your father must’ve been angry.” Arthur could remember his first hunting trip with his father. They’d tracked a deer and Arthur had been excited. He’d lined up the perfect shot and then it had hit him that he was about to end this animal’s life and he’d hesitated. His father had been furious. However, Merlin gave him a puzzled look.

“No, he wasn’t angry. Why would he be angry?” Merlin shook his head. “My father is a pretty powerful sorcerer, Arthur, so he has a pretty strong connection to the earth. He knew the moment he decided to teach me how to hunt that it would be difficult.”

“Well, seems like you’ve turned out to be a pretty good hunter, regardless of any difficulty,” Arthur commented. He was still stuck on the fact that Merlin apparently thought the idea of his father being angry over something like this was ridiculous.

“Oh, I’m an excellent hunter,” Merlin said, pride in his voice. “But I mostly use the skills I learned from hunting for my work as a Warden these days. Still not a big fan of murdering innocent creatures.”

“Even though you’ve had years to get used to it? Surely by now you’ve figured out how to just ignore the connection?”

But Merlin shook his head. “You’re not getting it. My connection to the earth isn’t voluntary. I can’t just decide not to sense the world around me.” Merlin sighed, frustrated, looking for a way to explain.

Arthur thought he was starting to get it though. “Are you saying that you… you _felt_ the bear die?”

Merlin shrugged, looking down at the egg. “Essentially. I could sense when you startled it by entering its cave and how scared it got when it realized you were a threat-“

“ _Scared_?” Arthur let out a disbelieving laugh. “That bear wasn’t scared, Merlin. It was angry.”

“Well what do you do when you’re scared?” Merlin asked.

“I don’t get scared,” Arthur automatically denied. Merlin rolled his eyes.

“Don’t know why I expected a different answer,” he muttered. “Everyone gets scared, Arthur. It’s a fact of life. And a lot of people, when they get scared, lash out at the thing that scares them. Animals are no different. You went armed into the bear’s territory, it was afraid you were there to hurt it, so it attacked.”

Arthur scoffed. “I don’t buy it.”

“Bears aren’t senseless rage filled monsters,” Merlin explained, his patience starting to wear thin. “The overwhelming emotion I sensed from that bear was fear. I _felt_ it, Arthur. I felt the bear’s desire to protect its home, to survive. Do you have any idea how disconcerting it is to feel all of that and then to feel nothing? I can’t think of animals as just a resource or senseless beasts.”

“I see.” Arthur would never admit this out loud, but he felt a bit like a jerk. A thought occurred to him and he eyed Merlin. “What about people?”

“What _about_ people?”

“Can you sense what people are feeling?”

“Kind of.” Merlin shrugged. “People are more complex. Animals generally operate on instinct with more basic thought processes, whereas humans have all kinds of layers to them. When an animal is afraid, it’s afraid. When a person is afraid, well.” Another shrug. “I guess people have a sort of… aura? It’s not easy to read, although I’ve never actually put much effort into learning how.” Merlin looked at him. “To be honest, your aura is the main reason I don’t like you.”

Arthur blinked. “You don’t like me because of my _aura_?"

“It’s so at odds with how you act! I can sense this… this compassion, this natural need to protect others. And you’re not nearly as confrontational as you come off. Based on what I’ve heard from Morgana, you care a lot about your people. And yet you act so vain and selfish! I don’t get it!”

Arthur was taken aback. “I always assumed you hated me because of the whole…” He made a broad gesture to indicate everything that had happened between House Pendragon and House Emrys since the betrayal a thousand years ago. “Well.”

“I won’t lie, that’s part of it,” Merlin said. “But the rest is that I know you’re a good person at heart, that you could be so much better than you are, yet you choose not to be.”

“It’s how I was raised,” Arthur said defensively.

“Well you’re not a child anymore.”

“My father is still the king.”

“So?”

“There’s this thing called loyalty, Merlin,” Arthur sneered, poking viciously at the fire. “Something the Wardens don’t have a concept of.” There was a long tense silence after that that prompted Arthur to look back up and see Merlin glaring at him. “What? It’s true. You’re not beholden to any kingdom, you can do whatever you want.”

“Clearly, you don’t actually understand how the Wardens work,” Merlin said testily.

“Yeah?” Arthur challenged. “So who are you loyal to then?”

“The Council of Kings.” At Arthur’s frown Merlin said, “You’re probably not familiar with it because the Pendragons haven’t attended in years, but you do at least know what the Council of Kings is, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” Arthur said, that sneer still in his voice. “It’s a gathering of rulers from all the kingdoms in Albion to decide on major issues affecting all the lands. It’s been falling apart for centuries now.”

Merlin rolled his eyes so hard it must’ve hurt. “Yes, because after the Pendragons decided that they didn’t have to show up and care about any kingdom other than their own, others started doing the same. And now, thanks to the broken Council and the wars you all have been waging against each other, the Dark Ones are being risen from their graves and darkspawn are swarming across the lands. Good job.”

“Hey, I’ve never heard anything about the Wardens helping resolve any of these wars.”

Merlin made a frustrated sound. “That’s because we can’t, Arthur. When you join the Wardens, you take a vow of neutrality. You swear loyalty to _all_ rulers of Albion through the Council of Kings. The Wardens aren’t meant to be mediators between your petty squabbles. We’re not babysitters for Albion’s royalty. The Wardens were formed to be protectors of all the land, to guard against evils that have been trying to destroy the world since it was first created.”

“Petty squabbles?” Arthur repeated, outraged. “ _Petty squabbles_? You think we would put our people through war over _petty squabbles_?”

“I’ve studied my history,” Merlin said evenly. “You can dress your wars up any way you want, but at the end of the day it’s just two people with lots of money and men at their disposal having an argument over something that they probably won’t even remember in a week. And instead of compromising and trying to come to a peaceful solution, they send their armies out to fight. It’s arrogance, pride, and a refusal to communicate.”

Arthur was seething now. “Do you have any idea-“

“No, listen!” Merlin’s expression was angry again, but this time it was underscored by a bone deep weariness that no amount of sleep would cure. “Do you really want to know what the Wardens have been doing while the rest of you have been going to war with each other? Picking up the pieces. When war ravages a kingdom do you know who it is who really pays the price? The common folk. Their homes, their livelihood, their families are destroyed and while their ruler is too busy with their war, it’s the Wardens who consider the needs of the people. It’s us who brings emergency food to starving families, it’s us who helps them rebuild their homes and businesses, it’s us who deals with the envoy sent by their local lord for taxes the people can’t afford to pay because their own soldiers looted their homes! I’ve spent years flying out to villages to deliver supplies, help rebuild, and run clinics to treat the injuries of those unfortunate enough to have been caught in the crossfire.”

“I thought the Wardens didn’t take sides,” Arthur said petulantly.

“We protect the people,” Merlin said. “If a ruler will not do their duty and protect their own people, then it is our sworn duty to do everything we can to help them. Even Camelot’s people.”

“What are you talking about? The Wardens haven’t operated in Camelot since long before I was born.” It was a point of pride for his father, that they never needed to rely on the Wardens’ help. Aside from the occasional mission that brought them over the border and that one disastrous attempt Uther and Balinor had made at mending relations, the Wardens stayed away from Camelot.

Merlin snorted. “I can assure you, we have. Remember that year Camelot’s crops failed and there was a famine?”

“I remember,” Arthur said, wary.

“And Uther decided to reserve all provisions for the nobility and the army, leaving everyone else to starve because he was too proud to ask for help? Ever notice that most of your people _didn’t_ starve?”

“The famine wasn’t as bad as we thought.” It was what Arthur had heard his father and everyone at council say over and over again. The villages must’ve had their own food stores or there were less crops damaged than they’d originally thought or their rationing had been more effective than first assumed or something.

“No, it was bad,” Merlin told him. “Really bad. Honestly, if not for how angry it makes me, I would find it hilarious that Uther was so intent on preserving the strength of the army when the famine would’ve left you with nothing to protect because all your people would’ve starved to death. No, it was the Wardens who kept that from happening. Morgana contacted us as soon as Uther gave the order to stop distributing food and asked us to help. She even went through the trouble of looking up the laws surrounding our ability to intervene and determined that it fell under the extenuating circumstances that meant we didn’t need to seek the ruler’s permission in order to provide assistance. We provided food from our own stores while we helped Morgana negotiate with other kingdoms for emergency aid. Meanwhile, Uther sat on his throne and pretended it was business as usual.”

Arthur struggled for words, caught between shock, anger, and denial. “That’s- That didn’t- You’re wrong!”

“If we ever make it out of here alive then you’re welcome to ask Morgana yourself or you could even try asking your father. I’m sure he’d not as oblivious as he pretends to be.” Merlin glanced at the fire. “Take the meat off before it overcooks, will you?”

Arthur almost told Merlin to do it himself before remembering that he too had to eat the bear meat. “We can’t possibly eat all of this tonight,” Arthur said. Butchering the whole bear had been far too much of a task for one night, but Arthur had managed to get through a decent portion of it.

“Obviously we’re not eating all of it tonight,” Merlin said. “Do you know how to preserve meat? Or should I just do it?”

“Of course I know how to preserve meat,” Arthur snapped. Sort of. He’d seen someone else do it. How hard could it be. “Here, your dinner.” He carelessly tossed a piece of meat at Merlin and watched it smack into his chest, falling into his lap. Merlin looked between the meat and Arthur.

“Really? Are you _that_ immature?” Merlin sighed, shaking his head as he picked up the meat. “Never mind, I already know the answer to that.” He stared at his dinner for a moment, thinking about something. Finally, he looked at Arthur. “Look, I get that you were raised a certain way. And I get that it isn’t easy to hear things that contradict that. But you’re going to be a king some day, Arthur, and things can’t continue like this. How do you expect to be a good leader for your people when you just blindly follow everything your father says? King or no, he’s still a man. He makes mistakes. Your job isn’t to ignore those mistakes. It’s to learn from them.”

Arthur didn’t answer, pretending to be absorbed in consuming his own portion of bear meat. Later, when Merlin had gone to sleep, Arthur sat awake, staring into the flickering flames of the fire, turning their conversation over in his mind. _Merlin is wrong_ , he told himself vehemently. But as he finally lay down and closed his eyes a tiny voice in the back of his head asked a single, important question:

_But what if he’s not?_

**Author's Note:**

> humans are like onions. they have layers.


End file.
